


Stall-Fed

by troq



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, In Public, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Swallowing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-20 03:58:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troq/pseuds/troq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bathroom wasn't as spectacular as he was expecting. For it to be locked all the time, he thought there'd at least be a fancy couch along one of the walls for him to lay down on while Boyd took his 'blowginity'. It was how he was picturing it all week, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stall-Fed

He definitely wasn't walking into the cafeteria for any particular, super special reason or anything - oh, no. Just a normal teenage kid in normal teenage jeans and a normal teenage jacket (in which he kept his normal teenage hands firmly pocketed as if holding onto some kind of incriminating evidence that would out him in front of every single normal teenage person in the room). It may have been a little bit suspicious that he was now taking a seat across from Boyd, fidgeting around with a creepy smile on his face like he was about to offer the other teen some form of hard drug, but everyone was probably too wrapped up in their own conversations to even notice.

Stiles plopped his ass against the cold, hard blue chair (which he's sure the school's staff insists they sit on so that they are never comfortable) and propped his elbow on top the table in the most nonchalant and super, one hundred percent, non-conspicuous way possible.

"Boyd," he said after nodding to the black teen, whose expression remained unbelievably bored. "Ya got the keys?"

The other responded, guise all the same, by lifting his arm out in front of Stiles' face with a set of keys jingling from betwixt two fingers, to which Stiles responded by lunging for them with a sigh that spoke about fifty percent relief and fifty percent worritement (his word for worry + excitement, a feeling he felt often, apparently). Boyd gripped onto the keys with little effort, but with more strength than Stiles could outmatch, as to prevent him from taking them. 

"This isn't a favour. It's a transaction."

"Right ... yeah. Absolutely." Slipping his hand from the pocket of his hoodie, he slapped a bill onto the table.

"I said fifty."

"S- Really? I, I remember twenty. I don't know. I have really good verbal memory. And I remember twenty. I remember the distinctive 'twuh' sound. Twuhhhhhh-enty."

"I said ... fifty."

Stiles rolled his eyes and sighed loudly, his shoulders giving out from their upright position, his arms flailing across the table like a Magikarp in battle.

"C'mon, Boyddddd! Have you seen the piece of crap jeep I drive? Fifty is way too much for something that honestly probably won't even last very long! I see your lips, I know your reputation, man. Cut me some slack, my body is practically screaming at my puny little virgin mind to stop being so awkward and lame and you're just shootin' me down like a stupid, gangly womp rat running through the forest with those creepy, beady eyes when little Stilinski could be blowin' up like the frickin' Death Star right about now! In a good way!" he ranted with his fingers and arms flying around in every which direction, exhaling with a slump, looking to the other teen for a reaction.

Boyd remain unfazed, and quite frankly, unamused.

" _IsaidfiftypshI'llshowyoufiftyalright_ ," he muttered beneath his breath. "Okay. Maybe we can cut some kind of a deal here, Boyd-o. Maybe if we, uhhhhh ..." he leaned in and whispered, "split the work load ...." and then leaned back to his original position, "then maybe you'll be okay with spending the night with President Jackson and President Jackson only? Eh? Eh??"

"Fifty."

Stiles threw his arms into the air and shouted against gritted teeth, _Oh my God_. In a rush, he reached into his pocket again and pulled out the rest of the money (which was conveniently fifty bucks) and slammed it onto the table. Boyd responded by smiling from ear to ear in the greatest amount of sarcasm he could muster before mimicking what he had done earlier - holding out the keys for Stiles to take this time.

"Aw, that's cute, so cute," he claimed, snatching the keys from his hand before jumping up to leave the cafeteria.

Now this was probably the hard part, no future, soon-to-be-obvious pun intended. Considering the halls were littered with students who were either a) the spawns of some old, demonic creature and didn't need to consume the food from the cafeteria to nourish themselves or b) students who just already ate the food from the cafeteria, it would make things a bit difficult for Stiles to reach his destination.

Going straight down the hall and to the right, he stopped in front of the locked door he was to go into and surveyed his surroundings. Spencer from his English class was busy hitting on two girls who were obviously not interested in him (he's the worst kind of person) and a few other randoms were stopping by their lockers to chit-chat about the weather or whatever kids who aren't involved with werewolves on a nightly basis talk about these days.

_Come on, come on, come on. Your lives can't be that interesting._

A moment later and the hallway was just about empty, save for himself and one other person. The instant that person was gone, though, Stiles' body had what would appear to anyone else to be a miniature seizure as he tackled the door with the keys he was twirling through his fingers. He nervitedly (another one of those amalgamated words of his, see: nervous + excitedly) jammed the piece of metal into the opening and jiggled it around until he heard a click, and with a triumphant screech, he pushed the door to the staff's first floor, private bathroom open and closed it shut immediately behind him.

He probably should've checked to see if any teachers were in there before he started plowing his way into the space, but he tended to be a lucky(ish) person. Sometimes. Occasionally. Rarely.

The bathroom wasn't as spectacular as he was expecting. For it to be locked all the time, he thought there'd at least be a fancy couch along one of the walls for him to lay down on while Boyd took his 'blowginity'. It was how he was picturing it all week, anyway. All that was in the room was a simple mirror, urinal, and stall - albeit they were all miraculously clean.

He dropped the backpack that was hanging from one of his shoulders off onto the ground beneath the sink and looked up at his reflection. 

"Okay, Stilinski. You're gonna be half a virgin when you walk out of this room. Be cool, it's totally normal. This happens all the time!" He blew air into his palm and sniffed it to check his breath, which in hindsight was probably totally useless unless he planned on making out with the guy - which he didn't. He then proceeded to flex his muscles, as if he was even able to see his (lack of) definition through the layers of clothing he was wearing. Then, he pulled at the waistband of his jeans and his underwear simultaneously, looking down at his penis. "Show time, buddy."

With a snap, the black boxer briefs fell back onto his skin and he looked himself in the eyes, winking while mentally saying ' _oh yeahhhh_ '. With a sharp turn he swiveled around and wobbled over to the stall. Once in, he sat on the seat and surveyed his surroundings. To his dismay, no teachers appeared to be into graffiti. 

Now that he was settled in, the slight tinge of fear was making its way into the forefront of his mind. What if Boyd was actually a serial killer who used a bathroom sex business as his cover and once he was done chopping up Stiles' body into tiny little pieces, he'd flush them down one at a time until he ceased to exist? There'd be no witnesses to speak of, considering Scott didn't even know about these particular, lunch-time happenings. 

Or what if Boyd totally fell in love with his penis (obviously) and began worshipping the ground he walked on like he was some sort of penile Messiah? Then he'd follow him around the hallways on a continual basis and he'd probably be outed eventually for being the guy who payed Vernon Milton Boyd IV for blowjobs because his dick was too beautiful to be left alone.

Crazier things have happened.

Becoming fidgety, he started to nibble on the strings hanging from his hood, then soon realized that maybe having a hoodie on wouldn't exactly set a sexy atmosphere, so he began to take it off. He only _began_ to take it off because in the time it took for him to loosen one of his sleeves, the door to the stall he was in was being pushed open and his heart flew through his chest and onto the floor before realizing it was Boyd - silent as ever.

"Oh my God, why would you even do that? Do you enjoy giving blowjobs to corpses?! Does rigor mortis turn you on?!" he spat out.

"Why are your pants still on?" replied Boyd, locking the stall behind him.

"I'm sorry, but did you miss the part where you just gave me a frickin' heart attack? I didn't even hear you come in! I-" and as Stiles continued to ramble on and on about the nuances of Boyd's silent entrance and the possibility/horror of him being one of the many teachers who hated him, the other teen knelt down onto the ground and immediately began to unbutton the awkward boy's jeans. "And oh my God if it was Coach Asshole who'd- ohwowyoujustgetrighttothepointdon'tyou?"

This was it. There was no backing out now. Boyd was now unzipping his pants in what seemed like slow motion (though he was sure it was happening entirely too fast), his big, strong hands gripping at the fabric, pulling them down hard enough to make his body slide forward. _Well that's hot._ He pulled them as far down as he could, 'til Stiles' jeans were wrapped around his ankles and he was left in just his boxer briefs.

"Okay, okay. Slow down big guy," he called out, already flustered. Boyd looked up at him with annoyance streaked across his face. "This is probably already common knowledge, to I don't know, everyone? But I'm a virgin. And if you keep _that_ up," he made a clawing gesture with his hands, "then I'm probably gonna last like, two freakin' seconds. And fifty dollars is a lot of money for two seconds of pleasure, even if it happens to be, like, mind blowing pleasure, right?"

"You gonna keep talking or can we get on with this?"

Taken aback, Stiles responded. "Welllll, it _is_ kinda my thing. I talk a lot, get things done, save the wor-" and yet again, he was being interrupted by Boyd's tenacity.

This time, his fingertips were tracing the skin beneath the briefs' waistband as he pulled at the cloth. To Stiles' surprise, Boyd actually listened. He watched closely, unintentionally holding his breath as Boyd slowly pulled, inch by inch at his underwear. A million thoughts were racing through his mind, such as: _Ohmygod he's like the first person besides Scott and my parents who've seen Stilinski Jr. and his gigantic hands are probably gonna make it look so small and oh my god I probably should've shaved my pubes, I mean maybe he totally hates pubes and will think I'm super lazy or something and not wanna blow me. That'd be horrifying but I really hope he does blow me because those lips look really experienced. I mean Jesus Christ have you seen them?_

Soon enough his briefs were brushing past his knees and joining his jeans down by his ankles and with a sigh of relief he let his legs spread apart automatically, his flaccid cock waiting for the next step. Now there was _really_ no turning back.

Boyd took one hand and started to massage Stiles' somewhat hairy balls before lapping his tongue across the sensitive head of his cock - to which Stiles responded with a muttered _OhmyGod_. 

Stiles gripped the part of the toilet near his ass cheeks for support as the other teen began to suckle the head of his cock - the new, insanely pleasurable feeling already taking its effect on his body as if the entire lower part of his body was simultaneously feeling the same pleasure. It was slightly mind numbing and he wouldn't mind getting used to the feeling at all, he decided.

His cock started to harden as those thick, juicy lips slid up and down, up and down, and the tugging at his balls only made the sensation all that much worse (in a good way). Boyd let the teen's dick slip out of his mouth so he could lower his lips down to the suck on his nuts. Seeing his cock lay against the darker boy's cheek as he did this made Stiles go partially insane.

Stiles' head tilted back as he sighed once more; Boyd's mouth now engulfing the entirety of his length. He was nearly fully erect now and could feel everything at a multiplied sensitivity. The underside of his cock slid across the other's wet tongue and the heat of it all surrounded him. He wanted desperately to thrust into Boyd's mouth every time he felt the tip of his dick push near the boy's throat, but restrained himself.

The sound of saliva swashing back and forth as Boyd's lips made their way from bottom to top was echoing in the small enclosure. It didn't help in terms of Stiles' assumed inability to last longer than the average t.v. commercial break, but simply hearing it sent waves of pleasure through his groin and lower stomach. 

Considering his brain was in no condition to bark out orders, Stiles' various body parts were acting upon their own, newfound free will. He felt his legs wanting to wrap around Boyd's torso to pull him closer to his own body or raise up to give the other a new vantage point from which to suck. He felt his mouth seem unable to close itself as the sighs and quiet moans escaped his lips in a hurry. He felt his hands want to latch onto the top of Boyd's head, to guide him to the more sensitive spots that he knew would drive him over the edge (not that he wasn't already doing spectacularly). All bodily feelings aside, however, the last thing he wanted to do to a person whose teeth were literally nanometers away from his dick was make him mad by pushing his head down or locking him into a leg-chokehold, as much as he wanted to.

Regardless of all the desires running rampant in his mind, he could feel himself nearing the end already. His legs were weakening and the pressure building up in his lower stomach was increasing. The pleasure was surging through him as his hands coiled into fists and he let his body fall back somewhat against the metal piping of the toilet.

"Oo-oh my _**God**_ ," he muttered out shakily when his ass cheeks clenched together and his balls constricted. His cock became numb with pleasure and his body inadvertently thrusted forward into the other boy's mouth as the cum shot out of the head and down Boyd's throat. Two shots and he felt himself thrusting even deeper. Three shots and his body was twitching - by the forth it was rigid. Five shots and his eyes were glued shut, his hands reaching out to grip at Boyd's shoulder, who was choking at this point. Six shots and he wondered when the insane amount of pleasure would come to an end, and by the seventh it did. 

When Boyd let Stiles' cock slip from his mouth he swallowed hard and glared up at the boy. The pale teen felt empty with the release of the heat, like a baby who just had his candy stolen.

"What the Hell was that?" Boyd asked through gritted teeth.

"OhmyGod I think I literally might be paralyzed. I'll probably have to be pulled out of the faculty bathroom with my pants around my ankles in the most embarrassing fashion and oh my God I can't move my legs. My head hurts, does your head hurt? Because mine is like POUNDING over here. Where did you even learn how to do that?"

"I asked you a question."

"Oh sorry, what was what? What happened? What did I do? What did I miss? Did I blackout or something?" he replied, breathing exhaustively.

"You didn't warn me when you were going to finish."

"Oh. I was supposed to do that? Is that a problem? I don't read the fine print very often, totally my fault."

"Wouldn't be a problem if you didn't cum so damn much," he retorted, matter-of-factly.

Stiles opened his eyes and adjusted himself, looking up at the now rising Boyd. "Do what now? I do? This is news to me. I thought I was normal. Normal body. Normal volume of pearl jam. Am I not? Oh God please don't tell I'm in some freak one percent of people that spews out like an ocean of lotion like those guys in those creepy porn videos. Am I one of those guys?"

Boyd rolled his eyes at the comment made by the other and wiped his mouth with the side of his hand. He then proceeded to open the stall door and walk out, not saying any more or giving any indication of answering, grabbing the ring of keys he gave to the boy on his way out now that his job was done.

"Uh, Boyd?" He heard the door to the bathroom open and close again. "...Boyd? You didn't answer my question!"

No reply.

"AM I?!"

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick rewrite of a scene from Ice Pick (you know the scene, c'mon) to have something to put on AO3 because I've had this account for entirely too long and all my old fics no longer exist so whoops have this. (And yes, my headcanon is that Stiles cums a lot).


End file.
